The Mess I Made
by The Last Letter
Summary: Connor's life takes a sickening turn after he moves in with his father, unimaginable things happening in the house. His father's homophobic attitude worsens, not only costing Connor his friendship with Jude but might, ultimately, cost Connor his life.


**Warning! Offensive language, violence, physical and verbal abuse, and self-harm will be found in this fic. If you are offended/sensitive to/triggered by any of the aforementioned topics, continue at your own discretion. The views of the characters "Adam/Jake" in this fic are not a reflection of the author's own views and are not supported by the author.**

"I don't want you to go," Connor complained. He padded behind his mother as she checked around their apartment, making sure that she had missed nothing.

"Now baby," his mother hummed, pausing to kiss him on the top of his head, "You know that this is only temporary. Losing my job … It wasn't something I planned on. And if there's a company in England offering me money to go there … Honey, I can't say no."

Connor knew all of this. He'd heard it before. He didn't want his mother to go, because without his mother, that meant he would have to live with his father. Connor loved his father; that wasn't in question. He just would prefer not to live full time with Adam. His father was controlling and possessive. He liked things to be just right, and Connor was included as one of those things. Adam had very strict ideas about how his son should act and present himself – rules that Connor didn't always adhere to.

"I know," Connor muttered. "But, how long, Mom?"

"Just until I can find a job in the U.S. I'm looking. And this company, they have a satellite in L.A. Maybe I can get transferred there."

L.A. wasn't quite where Connor wanted to be, but it was closer than England. Not that he was going to England, mind you. He was going a few streets down.

"I'm gonna miss you," he whispered, as the hustled out of the apartment.

His mother slipped the key under the doormat, as she'd been instructed to do. She then dropped her hand to her son's, curling her fingers around his. Connor held onto her, as if he were five years old again, as they walked down to the car.

"I'm going to miss you too. More than you know. But, I'll be home for Christmas, which is three months away, and there's the internet, we can even see each other through that thing!"

Connor had to grin at that. He couldn't hold the expression, though, as they pulled into his father's driveway. Connor was apprehensive about living with Adam because, aside from every other weekend, he barely remembered sharing a residence with his father. His parents had separated, and subsequently divorced, when he was very young. He only remembered them apart.

"It's going to be fine," his mother assured him, as if she were reading his mind.

Wishing he could agree with her, Connor climbed out of the car. His things had been moved into Adam's house the day before. All that was left now was for Connor to say goodbye. It was a lot harder than he thought it would be, to hug his mother and know that he wouldn't be seeing her, _really _seeing her, for months. She kissed him on the forehead, walked him to the front door, kissed him again, and then she was gone.

Connor stood on the front porch, watching her drive away. He stayed there long after he couldn't see or hear her car. He didn't know why he was rooted the spot; he just knew that he was, and he couldn't make himself move quite yet.

He didn't move as the door cracked open. He knew it wasn't Adam – his father worked until five every night. Rather, it was his older cousin, Jake. Jake was almost sixteen, and had lived with Adam since he was seven years old. Jake's parents, Adam's brother-in-law and sister, had passed away in a car accident, and Adam had taken the boy in.

"You just going to stand there?" Jake demanded. "Because Uncle Adam left a chore list, and he'll be home soon."

Connor closed his eyes, and soundlessly followed Jake into the house. He never quite knew what to do about his cousin. They weren't close – hadn't spent any time together growing up – so Connor didn't know how to act. He did know, however, that any instructions his father had left were to be followed, without questions; without exception.

He had just finished sweeping out the kitchen when Adam paraded into the house. He rubbed the top of Connor's head as he walked by, the most physical affection that Adam ever offered. He gestured for Connor to follow him as he went to the coat closet, shedding himself of the day's outerwear.

"Ground rules," Adam said sternly, "No friends here on school nights. You must be home by nine. Chores will be completed daily. Understood?"

"Yep," Connor agreed.

"Good." Adam turned to look at Connor, and his expression changed. "One more thing."

"Yeah, Dad?"

"Do you still talk to that Jude kid?"

"I-I," Connor stuttered. "Yes."

"That needs to stop, immediately."

"He's just my friend," Connor protested. "He's not … like that."

"Don't lie to me," Adam shook his head. "I can spot one of _them_ from a mile away. I won't have him turning you into something you're not."

"He's my _friend_," Connor fought again. He hadn't stood up for his relationship with Jude before; causing an awkwardness to enter their relationship. Since Connor was with his mother most of the time, it was easy for the two of them to try and forget what Connor's dad had said; how he had tried to keep them apart. Now that Connor was going to be with Adam full-time, he knew that he would have to fight to keep Jude in his life. It was, in his opinion, a worthy battle; one that he would not back away from. "You can't become gay by hanging out with gay people, even if he were like that!"

In truth, Connor had no idea what Jude's sexuality was. He didn't think his friend was confident in that aspect of himself either. Either way, it didn't matter to Connor what Jude's sexuality was; it had no bearing on his own. Jude was his friend, _his best friend_, and he wasn't about to let him out of his life.

Connor never saw the fist coming. He just found himself stumbling backward, his hand coming up to cradle his mouth. He felt blood drip onto his fingers from where he'd bit his own lip. He looked at Adam, shocked. His father had never touched him with any sort of violence before.

"_My_ house, _my_ rules." Adam explained to him. "And if you can't learn that, I'll have no problem teaching it to you again."

Appropriately cowed, Connor choked out a "Yes sir" and crept back to the kitchen.

_Should've kissed you there_

Connor woke up with a start, slamming his hand down on his alarm clock. He melted back against his mattress as he listened to Jake begin to bustle around their shared rooms. He yawned and rubbed at his eyes, his dream weighing heavily on his mind. He'd been dreaming of the party the Adams-Foster children had thrown when Stef and Lena had gone away; the night he and Jude had played spin the bottle … the night they had almost kissed. For whatever reason, it was that moment that Connor had been dreaming about last night; the moment Connor had almost kissed his best friend.

He rubbed his eyes, reminding himself that he couldn't laze around in bed all day; he had to get ready for school. He sat up, though very slowly. His aching body screamed at him every time he twitched a muscle. By the time Connor was in a standing position, he was heaving from the effort, the bruises across his torso throbbing.

"Man," Jake croaked, "You look like hell."

Connor shrugged, and his shoulders ached; the pain in the outline of a shoe. His father had caught him in the back, between the shoulder blades, late last night.

"If you just left that kid alone, he'd leave you alone," Jake advised.

"He's my best friend," Connor explained. "I can't abandon him."

"You should," Jake repeated. "He really can't be worth that. Best friends come and go."

"Jake …" Connor began, but he couldn't think of anything to say. Instead, he repeated, "He's my best friend."

Jake snorted and left the room. Connor dressed as quickly as his sore body would allow him to. He collected his homework and headed down to the kitchen to grab the lunch he'd made himself last night. He entered the kitchen as Jake struck up a conversation with Adam.

"Hey, Uncle Adam?"

"What, Jake?"

"Did you know Connor talks in his sleep?"

"He always has," Adam mumbled, not paying much attention to Jake."Even as a baby, he was spewing gibberish."

Connor found himself smiling at Adam's comment; liking the thought of Adam remembering things from when Connor was a child. It was always his mother that had told stories from when Connor was young; he couldn't remember his father ever sharing a sentimental moment.

"Well, he kept me up last night," Jake complained.

"You've been sharing a room for a few weeks. If you haven't learned to live with it by now, I can't help you." Adam tossed the morning paper down onto the top of the kitchen table.

"Did you hear him?" Jake pressed.

Connor paused by the fridge, wondering what his cousin's preoccupation with Connor's sleep-talking was. Jake hadn't mentioned it this morning.

"No. The perks of sleeping downstairs," Adam huffed.

"He kept talking about Jude," Jake blurted. "Screaming his name and talking about kisses."

Connor felt his body freeze up as Jake finished talking. In a rush, he recalled his dream; his mind replaying spin the bottle over and over again. He hadn't thought about the ramifications of that nightly fantasy coming through his lips, but he'd also never thought that Jake would sell him out like that. While he knew that Jake didn't approve of Connor's friendship with Jude, if only because it made Adam angry, Connor hadn't thought that Jake would do anything that would actually sic Adam on him.

"_Jude_," Adam growled. "Connor, why do we keep having this conversation?"

Connor kept his eyes lowered to the kitchen floor.

"Connor." The boy heard the scrape of chair legs against the floor as his father stood up. "Answer me."

"I don't know," Connor cried, knowing that the explanation wouldn't be enough.

_I should've held your face _

Connor sucked in a deep breath, just as Adam's hand caught him around the throat. He waited for a brief moment, knowing that Adam would quickly let go. He was usually careful about touching either Connor or Jake in visible places; he was smart. Adam let go of Connor's throat, but immediately afterward, a fist caught him in the stomach. He groaned, and, as he began to double over, an elbow caught him in the back. Connor completely collapsed to the ground, his hands barely keeping his face from hitting the ground.

"Why do we keep having this conversation?" Adam shouted. "That boy has no place in your life."

The tip of his shoe came up, driving into Connor's chest.

"Explain!" Adam roared, kicking at his son's chest once more.

"He's … my … friend," Connor choked out weakly.

"Not anymore," Adam ordered. He brought his foot up and planted it squarely on Connor's back, flattening him against the kitchen floor. He dropped his foot down on Connor over and over again, battering it against his spine. "Today, you tell that _fag_ to fuck off and leave you alone. Jake will know if you do, so I suggest you listen this time. Or it'll be a lot worse when you get home."

He delivered one more kick to Connor's ribs, before he turned away from his son, leaving for work.

After he'd left, Jake picked up Connor's book bag and his own, slinging one over each shoulder.

"Come on," he beckoned to his younger cousin. "We're going to miss the bus."

Connor picked himself up off the floor, lifting his shirt up. His new wounds were red and scraped in a few places, but there was no blood. He put his shirt down, turning to look at Jake.

"Why?" He demanded of his cousin.

"Walk and talk," Jake invited, seemingly undisturbed about the vicious attack he'd just witnessed against his cousin; one that he had put in motion.

Connor shuffled slowly out the door, Jake trailing in his wake.

"Why?" Connor repeated.

"You need to do what he says," Jake explained with determination. "And you need to do it now. If you don't break up with Jude today, I'll tell Adam a lot worse."

Connor gaped at his family member, unable to form a coherent thought. He didn't even think to defend against Jake's subtle accusation that he and Jude were more than friends. All he could think about was the pain slipping through his body and about what was sure to come if he didn't comply with Jake and Adam's demands.

"And Connor," Jake added, "Remember, if you tell anyone about Adam, I'll kill you myself, because I'm not losing my home again.

_I should've watched those eyes _

"Are you okay?" Jude asked him.

"Yeah," Connor answered quickly, trying to get his rapid breathing under control. He'd just had an unfortunate run-in with Jake, who'd narrowed his eyes and punched him in the stomach, reminding Connor that he still had to have a conversation.

"You sure? You don't seem okay." Jude knew that something had been off about Connor lately. Originally, he'd thought that it was because of his mother leaving for England; that Connor was simply adjusting to life with his domineering father. Now, though, Jude wasn't so sure that was all that was wrong with Connor.

"Fine," Connor insisted, and then he spotted Jake. His cousin sauntered across the lunchroom and found a seat behind where Connor was sitting. Connor knew that Jake was trying to listen so that he could confirm to Adam that Connor and Jude had "broken up".

"So," Jude began, trying to think of a subject to switch subjects.

Jake cleared his throat, and Connor winced.

"Uhm, Jude, there's actually something I need to tell you."

Jude turned his head, giving Connor his full attention. He hoped his best friend was about to open up and let him in. He wasn't used to Connor keeping secrets, they had been unnaturally open with each other throughout the course of their friendship and it was strange to look at him and know that Connor was hiding something away.

"Anything," Jude prompted.

"It's hard to say." Connor said slowly, trying to hold off on saying the awful words.

He didn't want to tell Jude that they couldn't be friends anymore. He couldn't bear to cut his best friend out of his life. But he was terrified of what would happen if he went home and Jake tattled on him. He would figure out a way to circumvent Adam's rules later, explain it to Jude in a way that wouldn't reveal his new home life. He didn't want to admit to anyone that his own father would be willing to lay a hand on him, nor did he want to aggravate Jake by admitting it. It was a secret he kept now, one that he never thought he would.

"You can say it," Jude encouraged. "You know I'm always listening."

"We can't be friends anymore," Connor blurted. He darted his eyes away as he said the words, but he could see the broken expression that rushed across Jude's face. He jumped to his feet then, knowing that the bell to end lunch was about to ring and knowing that he couldn't bear to hear Jude ask 'why'.

_Instead of run in place_

Connor headed swiftly out of his last period class. He wasn't just rushing so that he could avoid Jude but because Adam was picking Jake and him up from school – Jake had a dentist appointment right after. Connor had made it out to the pick-up area, had even spotted Adam leaning against his car with Jake beside him, when he felt a hand reach out and grab his arm. Panic flooded him, icy cold. He knew that it was Jude.

He trembled and tried to continue you walking but Jude was faster than Connor despite the fact that he had shorter legs. He took a few long, broad steps and planted himself in front of Connor.

"What's going on?" Jude demanded. "You haven't been yourself lately and I know you didn't mean what you said earlier. Is it your dad? Is he doing what he did before?"

"It's not …" Connor shook his head. "Jude, I can't do this. You just have to leave me alone. We're not friends anymore."

"You need to tell me what this is about!" Jude shouted.

"It's not about anything," Connor denied. "Just leave me be."

"Not until you actually talk to me."

"Jude!"

"Just tell me why," Jude argued. "Give me one reason why us not being friends is a good idea because I can't see it, Connor. I don't understand you!"

"Jude," Connor growled.

"That's not a reason," Jude pushed.

Connor had never seen him like this, and it made him hurt even more. Jude was so determined to keep their friendship, and Connor wished he could afford to be the same way. But with Adam watching, he knew that he couldn't. He was likely going to get it because Adam had spotted him with Jude. He was going to miss Jude, more than he could say, but when this was all over, when he was out of his father's house and his mother had come home, he would fix it. He would tell Jude the truth and it would all be fixed … but that could only happen if Jude let him walk away now.

"Why?" Jude yelled. "Why, Connor?"

Connor looked over his friend's head to see the look in his father's eye. Any thought that Connor might have had about covertly telling Jude the truth now, vanished. Now, Connor was just scared.

"Leave me alone," Connor insisted. He went to walk away, but Jude blocked his path, and Connor couldn't bring himself to forcefully shove the other boy out of the way.

"No. Explain this."

And just like that, Connor thought of the one thing that would get Jude to leave him alone. He thought of the one word, that evil word that his father had used in the kitchen this morning. If he said that to Jude, their friendship would be all over, but there would be no getting it back. He wavered for a moment, feeling as if he were going to be sick. He glanced away from Jude, and saw Adam's impatient, angry face and knew that he had to do it.

"Jude," Connor said assertively, hoping that his friend wouldn't notice his voice cracking. "It's because you're a …" he couldn't do it. He was going to throw up instead.

"I'm a what?" Jude hissed. "_What_?"

And the word exploded out of his mouth before he could stop it, launched by every ounce of self-preservation that Connor possessed. "Because you're a fucking fag and so are your moms and I can't spend any time with someone like you."

_I should've called you out_

Jude gaped, his mouth opening and closing, although he was utterly speechless. Connor felt paralyzed as he watched anger and sorrow bloom across Jude's hurt features.

"I can't believe you just said that," Jude finally exclaimed.

Connor couldn't believe he'd said it either. He couldn't believe he'd used such an awful slur against his best friend. Not just his best friend, but against two women who Connor respected, and even loved, dearly. There were few people in this world like Stef, Lena, and Jude. The three of them had unnaturally large, giving hearts. The three of them, he knew, would have walked through fire to save someone on the other side. Connor loved all three of them, counted them as his family, and now he'd delivered such a terrible blow against them.

"Jude," Connor whispered, but there was nothing more that he could say. There was no defending himself against the use of that word.

"You said that about me, about my _moms_," Jude exclaimed, anger more characteristic of Jesus than of him taking over him. "You're such a jerk!"

He reached out, shoving Connor's abdomen with both hands. The taller boy cringed as Jude connected with fresh bruises. He felt physically ill as Jude hammered his opens palms against Connor's chest, but it had nothing to do with the violence that Jude was displaying. It was because of his own actions; it was because he had hurt Jude with such astonishing accuracy that he knew he could never take it back.

"How dare you!" Jude exclaimed. "I guess we really aren't friends."

A tear dripped down Jude's face as he pushed Connor out of the way, turning his back on his former best friend.

_I should've said your name_

Connor suppressed his own urge to cry as Jude walked away. On trembling legs he took a step, and then another, toward his father and cousin. Jake's expression was unreadable but Adam's was clear as day. He was angry. He had to have known, by Jude's reaction, that Connor had done just as he had asked. He had cut the boy that Adam was so inexplicably threatened by, out of his life.

There was no more Jude and Connor.

There was no more best friends.

"Get in the car," Adam growled. "I can't stand around here all day waiting for you. We have places to go."

"Dad," Connor said, feeling as if he needed some recognition for what he'd done; as if he needed some validation to let him know that cutting Jude out of his life was the right, in some twisted way, because he knew that it wouldn't ever be _right._

"In," Adam hissed. "Now. We'll talk about your little conversation later.

"I did what you asked!" Connor protested.

He stood there as Jake clambered into the passenger's seat. Adam didn't turn to look at Connor as he dropped into the driver's side.

"Get in the car, Connor, or I'll leave you here."

Connor wrapped his hand around the door handle but, before he got into the passenger side, he turned his head, just to see if he could get one last glimpse of Jude.

_I should've turned around _

Connor could only watch Jude's back as he retreated. His thin arms were curled in front of him and he was hunched forward. Connor was struck by the need to dart forward, to run away from his father and tell Jude he was sorry; to tell Jude _why._ The real 'why' not the awful excuse he'd uttered only moments before; the word that scarred his lips and made him feel awful.

Connor swallowed and brought himself back to reality. Jude no longer cared about the real 'why'. He'd destroyed any part of Jude that still cared about him. He no longer had a best friend and he already missed him. With a hiccup that Connor wasn't able to suppress, he slid into the backseat, hanging his head between his knees, so he no longer had to face the truth of what he had done.

_I should've looked again _

Shaking and angry, Jude didn't want to turn around. He didn't want to look at Connor. He couldn't believe that his best friend would say something like that about him. Not only about him, but about Stef and Lena, who deserved ugly words even less than Jude did. He wrapped his arms around himself, confusion and anxiety overtaking him.

He just didn't believe it. Jude just couldn't believe that it was Connor who had said that. It had been Connor's mouth, but he didn't think that it had been Connor's own mind that had made him say it.

Jude turned around.

He saw Connor get into his father's car, not looking upset in the least. He looked utterly fine with what had just occurred, what he had just said. He must have seen Jude looking at him, because Connor ducked his head, coward-like, so that Jude could no longer see him.

Hate bubbled within Jude. He hated Connor for what he had said; the slur that he'd used against Stef and Lena. And, no matter what had happened in Connor's life recently, that still gave him no right to say those things. If Connor was having trouble, he knew that Jude would listen; Stef would listen; Lena would listen. Connor had people who would be there for him.

… Would have been there for him.

Jude couldn't be friends with someone who didn't trust him. Jude couldn't be friends with someone who would attack him, and his family, with such brutal words.

The decision to let Connor have his way, to remove Connor from his life, ravaged Jude on the inside. He wanted his best friend. But the person who said those things, wasn't his friend. And Jude just couldn't forgive him this time.

He collapsed to the front lawn of the school, curling his knees up to his chest. He locked himself into the little ball position, trying to process what had happened. Connor didn't care; Connor was gone.

And if Connor didn't care, Jude didn't either.

Even if he was crying.

_But oh, I'm staring at the mess I made_

"Stop. _Please_. Stop!" Connor cried out, scrabbling away on his knees.

He crawled through the living room, knowing that he didn't have to get away from Adam; he just had to get away faster than Jake. It was a horrible thought, but as Jake had often told him, it was survival of the fittest in Adam's house. And, when Adam was drunk (which, mercifully, wasn't often), it became a literal act of survival. In normal cases, it took something to set Adam off; it was usually breaking one of his precious rules. When Adam wasn't sober, there was pure, unadulterated hate that roared from Adam and he took it out on his nephew and son.

Jake reached out, grabbed Connor's leg from under him, slowing the younger boy down. Jake hurtled to his feet and flew past Connor, rushing up the stairs to their shared room. Connor desperately tried to get to his own feet, to get up the stairs as well before Adam caught up to him. But Connor moved slower than his cousin, a product of how frequently he enraged Adam, and his father reached out to grab him.

Connor squawked as Adam caught him by the collar of his shirt. He wrinkled his nose as he drew close to his father, the foreign smell of alcohol filling his nostrils. He almost threw up from the acrid fumes, as his father opened his mouth and an even worse scent washed over Connor's face.

"What are you running from?" Adam asked him, words slurring. "Are you hiding something from me?"

"No," Connor exclaimed, because it was true. He had nothing to hide, not even Jude was a secret because there was no Jude. There hadn't been for almost a week now. "Nothing, Dad."

"What about your little friend?" Adam demanded.

"No!" Connor repeated. "We're not friends."

Adam narrowed his eyes. "You're weak, Connor. And I don't have weak kids."

Connor struggled against Adam's hold on the back of his shirt. He squirmed and Adam let go. Connor nearly fell in surprise from the lack of tension. With a snap, Adam's fist reached out and caught Connor in the back.

"Stop," Connor shouted, although he knew it would make no difference.

"You need to be a man," Adam exclaimed, delivering another blow, even as Connor began to curl up, trying to protect his sensitive skin from his father's anger. "Why aren't you a man?"

"Dad," Connor blubbered.

"No crying! Crying is for the weak; for the fags. Are you one of those?"

"No!"

"Good." Adam grabbed Connor by the shoulders, shoving him to the ground. Connor's head slammed against the bottom stair, and he saw spots. He felt flush and dizzy as he tried to sit up, the world spinning around him.

He placed his head back down against the cold floor, knowing that moving right now would be the wrong decision. His father saw his actions as a sign of vulnerability, and kicked at Connor's ribs.

"Weak!" He shouted, and Connor did not have the strength to defend himself.

_I 'm staring at the mess I made _

Connor blinked once, twice, trying to focus on the whiteboard at the front of the room. His vision blurred awkwardly and Connor dropped his gaze away from the lesson. He ran his thumb along the edge of his desk, stopping when he reached the desk connected to his.

Science had become Connor's least favourite class. While Jude was in most of his classes, science was the only class that they sat next to one another in. It was hard to sit next to Jude for an hour, sometimes two, and have the word that Connor had said sitting between them. The day after Connor had said that word to Jude, when he and Jude had to sit next to him, Connor could feel the waves of anger and confusion rolling off Jude. He had thought that emotion was awful; didn't know if he could handle his friend thinking so lowly of him. It was nothing though, now, to feel the pain and indifference that Jude radiated toward Connor now.

Connor's headache pounded with a renewed force as he thought about Jude. Connor slowly settled his head against the top of his desk. It was nice and cool, and he hoped that it would help his head. He'd been hurting ever since he woke up this morning, and part of him wondered if his headache and sometimes blurry vision had to do with his run-in with the stairs last night.

"Connor?"

The boy blinked at the sound of his name, uttered by Ms. Alcott.

"Connor?" She repeated.

He forced himself to sit up and look at her. He wavered in his seat, feeling as if he was about to fall over. Ms. Alcott looked at him with concern, walking down the rows of seats to crouch next to Connor.

"Are you feeling all right?" She asked in a low voice.

"Absolutely," Connor lied, knowing that he couldn't afford to tell the truth.

"I think you need to go to the nurse," Ms. Alcott decided for him.

"No!" Connor protested. If he went to the nurse, there was the risk that she would notice something wrong with him – she would see the bruises and wounds. "I'm fine, Ms. Alcott. My cousin just kept me up late last night."

"You look really ill," Ms. Alcott insisted, "And I'm sending you to the nurse. Jude will accompany you, right Jude?" She said it in such a way that there was no room for argument on either part.

"Sure," Jude agreed, and his reluctance licked at Connor like fire.

Connor stood up slowly, the feeling of nausea getting worse as he moved.

"Here's a pass," she slipped it to Jude. "Just see Connor to the nurse's office and then head right back to class."

"All right." Jude accepted the pass and then opened the door for Connor.

Connor shuffled out the door, feeling like a very old man, as Ms. Alcott began to teach again. Feeling awkward, he struggled to keep pace with Jude as the shorter boy led the way down the hall. Connor wished there was something he could say that would get Jude to slow down a little, maybe say something. Even though Connor was the one to drive him away, Connor missed his friend. With every day the passed, Connor regretted his words more, but he could think of no way to take them back. He couldn't heal the rift that had been created between them.

"Jude," Connor groaned.

"What?" Jude snapped, stopping mid-step at Connor's voice. When Connor didn't answer, Jude turned his head to see Connor puking into a garbage can.

"I feel sick," Connor lamely explained to the inside of the trashcan.

And despite himself, Jude both cracked a smile at the words and felt a tug of sympathy toward Connor.

"Come on, I'll help you to the nurse." Jude put his hand on Connor's shoulder, and he felt the other boy flinch and shiver underneath his flat hand. More carefully, Jude wrapped his other hand around Connor's arm, guiding him into a more upright position. "Are you going to be sick again?"

"I don't think …" Connor said. "But, I'm not going to the nurse."

"You're sick," Jude pointed out.

"I'm just not," Connor explained cryptically. "Just go back to class."

Jude hesitated, about to say something more, but he realized what this was about. Connor just didn't want him around, of course. They weren't friends, and Connor clearly hated him, just as Jude had really known all along.

"Fine. Bye." Jude grumbled, and turned his back on Connor.

Connor almost said something, almost called after Jude to tell him that he hadn't meant it the way that Jude had taken it, but he didn't have the opportunity. He was sick again.

_I'm staring at the mess I made_

Connor was sitting alone in the lunchroom. He was tucked into the very corner, picking at his sandwich though not really eating it. He was distracted by his fellow students, studying them, wondering what secrets people were hiding – if any of them were hiding the same secret he was. He didn't even think he'd notice if they were.

His gaze landed on Jude, who was seated with a group of boys that he'd worked on a recent English project with. Connor couldn't help but feel jealous of the group. Not only did he wish to be part of it, but he wished he could talk with Jude like that again. He wished that he could make Jude laugh, sit next to him at lunch, and just be in his presence again. He wished to be Jude's friend again.

He missed Jude Adams-Foster more than he imagined he would, and he'd imagined that he would miss Jude immensely.

Connor was startled from a loud noise coming from his side. He jumped out of his skin, expecting the _bang_ to be followed up with an act of violence, committed against him. But when he turned to look, it was only Jake, come to antagonize him, as Jake often did.

"Mooning after your boyfriend?" Jake teased.

"No," Connor snorted, trying to sound as if the idea was ludicrous; as if Jude couldn't possibly matter and Connor wouldn't be caught dead around him.

"'Cause I'll tell Adam."

"Can we at least wait until the headache totally stops?" Connor bargained bitterly.

"I'll hold onto this little tidbit," Jake decided. "Until I need something from Adam … or you."

"Whatever." Connor didn't care. Jake was the favourite in Adam's house; Connor was the go-to punching bag. He knew that he was going to get hit for something, he just didn't know what.

"Whatever … right." Jake snorted. "You know as well as I do that you care, whether it be about what I tell Uncle Adam, or what Uncle Adam does, or about your boyfriend."

"He's not –"

"I know," Jake interrupted. "You broke up with him."

Connor wordlessly groaned, standing up and beginning to walk away from his cousin.

"I'm just saying," Jake called after him, "That you can't lie to Cousin Jake."

But Connor could ignore him.

_As you turn, you take your heart and walk away _

Connor was shaking, but it had nothing to do with the chilly wind. He was nervous. He was terrified of what he was about to do. He was terrified that he would fail. He was terrified of what would happen after if he succeeded. He didn't know what was going to happen whatsoever, and that was making him feel physically ill. The last time that he had wandered into the unknown, he had ended up in his father's house, to live with his Dad and cousin.

The unknown was one of the worst things to happen to him.

Connor rubbed his hands up and down the length of his arms. It was Wednesday and Lena didn't stay after school on Wednesdays as long as she did on the other days. Jude often waited for Lena on Wednesdays, although he did it outside in the courtyard. Connor waited for his once-friend to emerge, hoping that he did so soon.

Jude appeared, just as Connor had willed him to. He didn't notice Connor, hidden how he was behind one of the trees. He dropped onto one of the picnic tables and pulled out a book, spreading it open on the table top. He bent his head over the pages, and became absorbed.

_Go now, _Connor told himself, although his feet became rooted to the ground.

He knew that talking to Jude was going to be hard. He didn't know if he was going to be able to make himself tell the truth after so long of hiding it away. He didn't even know if he could make Jude listen to him. After Connor had said that three-letter word the weeks had dragged on, awkward and horrible. They had avoided talking to one another, and Connor was sure that Jude hated him. He didn't even know why he thought Jude would want to talk to him.

Self-doubt welled up within him.

Just because Jude was the only person that he could talk to, just because Jude was the only person in this world that Connor felt he could open up to or turn to for help, didn't mean that Jude was going to stand there and listen. Connor had treated the other boy horribly, beyond horribly. He'd attacked something personal about Jude, something that was sensitive to the other boy; and he'd attacked Jude's family, something that was more sacred to Jude than anything else.

Connor turned around in that instant. He'd already hurt Jude enough; he didn't need to be a burden.

And so he walked away, never knowing that Jude had known he was there the whole time and that Jude had been holding his breath, praying that Connor would come sit down.

_Should've held my ground_

Burden.

The word reverberated over and over again in Connor's head. He'd never thought about that word in conjunction with himself before but, now that he had, it was all that he could think about. He couldn't stop obsessing about the fact that he was a burden. He'd been a burden to his mother – she'd had to move to England in order to support him and herself. He was a burden to his father, who had been happy playing the role of weekend parent to Connor. He was a burden to Jake, who'd hated the intrusion of his younger cousin in his house. He didn't quite know if he had been a burden to Jude during the friendship, but he certainly would have become one, given enough time. He was glad, then, that he had separated himself from Jude before Connor could tear him down completely, although Connor knew that he had, in the end, hurt the boy he still referred to as his best friend.

Connor felt as if he was going to explode. His self-hatred and anxieties batter against his skin until he felt as if he were going to throw up. He needed a release. But more than that, he needed to punish himself. He knew that Adam was going to get him as soon as he arrived home – Connor had spilled the paint he was supposed to redo the garage door with – but that wasn't what Connor meant by punishing himself. Adam would hurt him anyway.

No, Connor needed to punish himself with real pain. Not the dull, thudding blows Adam would deliver, pain that only blossomed across his flesh. Connor craved punishment of the crisp kind; the brutal slice that would reach his soul.

Connor was a burden, through and through. Connor was useless, through and through. He hated himself, and deservedly so. He deserved to hurt as much as he hurt others.

These are the thoughts that ran through his mind as he dismantled one of his father's razors, slicing open the pad of his index finger as he pulled the thing apart. When the individual razor blades fell to the floor, Connor looked at the thin metal pieces for a long time, hesitating, wondering what he was going to do with them. He slid to the floor of the bathroom, leaning against the door. His father wasn't due home for another hour, and Jake was out for the night, but it was just an extra security measure.

Connor carefully picked up one of the blades, holding it between his cut index finger and his thumb. He inspected the razor blade. He'd never seen one out of the razor before, and, not having the ability to grow facial hair yet, he didn't really have experiences with razors. It didn't even really look like it could hurt someone; it looked _dull_.

But Connor knew that it could hurt. Even if he hadn't heard stories of self-harm, his stinging finger, still oozing blood, could testify to a razor blade's ability to slice. His finger hurt, but it was the right kind of hurt. It was the kind of hurt that Connor knew that he deserved to feel. He angled the razor blade between his fingers and then he exposed his opposite wrist. He stared at the underside of his arm for a moment, studying the blue lines of his veins.

He pressed the razor blade against his skin, forcing it down as far as he could stand so that it would dig into him more. He then pulled it across his arm as quickly as possible. He hissed at the burning pain that immediately followed; more acute than he had imagined it being. The cut immediately throbbed, as if it had gained a heartbeat of its own. Connor watched his arm bleed for a moment, trying to adjust to this new pain.

But it wasn't pain like when Adam hit him. It was pain as in relief; as in, it was releasing the troubles and anxiety that had been building up within him. It was the kind of pain that Connor knew he deserved, and it felt as though it filled something within him.

Connor pressed the razor to his skin again.

_I could've been redeemed_

"Connor, I swear to god, if you don't get out of there right now, I'm going to lose my mind."

Connor's heart jumped into his throat at the sound of his dad's voice. He lurched to his feet, tugging his sweater sleeve down over his new wounds. He quickly, though carefully, picked up the razor blades and slid them into the pockets of his jeans. He then cracked the bathroom door open, peering at his father.

"Sorry, Dad," he mumbled, stepping under his father's arm.

Adam grunted. "Did you put the lasagna in the oven like I asked?"

"Yes."

"What about the garage door?"

"…There, uh, wasn't enough paint."

Adam made a noise, one that Connor interpreted to mean 'I know there was enough paint; I'll figure out what you actually did later'. Thankfully, Connor was saved from explaining further as the timer for the lasagna went off.

"I'll … go get that," the boy stuttered to his father, before he dashed down the hall, off to rescue dinner from the oven.

He carefully pulled the dish from the heated oven, relocating it to the table. He then set the table – only two places, because Jake wasn't come home. He poured water into both his and Adam's glasses, knowing that was the only thing that Adam liked to drink with dinner. Everything prepared, Connor sat at his placed and waited for Adam to join him. His father arrived swiftly, cutting the lasagna.

The meal was quiet and uneventful, until Adam noticed something.

"What did you get on your sweater?"

Connor looked down at the front of his sweater, wondering if he'd dripped tomato sauce on himself.

"Your sleeve," Adam directed the young teenager's attention.

Connor looked down at his sleeve, to the arm that he had cut open earlier that afternoon. The underside of his grey sleeve was slowly turning a rusty colour; blood from the cuts that Connor hadn't had time to tend to.

"Must have caught it in something …" Connor suggested lamely, hoping that Adam would accept that.

"Roll up your sleeve," Adam commanded.

Connor hesitated.

"I wasn't asking."

Connor grimaced as he tugged his sleeve upward. His hoodie had gotten stuck in the blood as it dried, and it ripped painfully at his new cuts. He rolled his sleeve up past his elbow, but kept his self-inflicted wounds angled downward. He didn't know how Adam would react. Connor had anticipated keeping this a secret, like everything else going on in his life.

"Flip your arm over," Adam ordered in a tone that showed he was quickly losing patience.

Connor revealed his cuts.

"What is that?" Adam stood and seized Connor's forearm, fingers digging into the sensitive skin.

Connor screeched but, as always, Adam took no notice.

"That's what pussies do to themselves," Adam yelled. "Are you a fucking pussy, Connor? Are you a faggot?"

"No!"

"Then what is this? What is wrong with you? What did I do to deserve a son like you?"

"I'm sorry!"

"Only little bitches say they're sorry," Adam spat, twisting Connor's arm to a near-unnatural angle. "Little bitch."

"Let go!" Connor pleaded.

Adam released Connor's arm and Connor only had a moment's respite before his father proceeded to do much worse.

_For every second chance _

Connor sat across from Jude. It had been a month since they'd last spoken as friends and Connor didn't know what to say. It seemed that Jude didn't either; he remained utterly focused on the in-class science project that had just been handed to them. Connor was ecstatic to be back in Jude's presence, even if it was accidental. Partners for the project had been pulled from a hat, and it was only an act of fate that Jude had selected his name.

"So," Connor began.

"So," Jude repeated, never looking up from the sheet of paper.

"We should talk," Connor said suddenly. "About … things."

About how he was sorry. About how he needed a safe place, and that place might be Jude. About how he wanted his best friend back. About how much he hurt on the inside. About how he knew he was selfish, pouring this all out on Jude, but he was so sick of missing him and Jude might just end up being his hero, if he hadn't shattered his best friend completely.

"Uh," Jude managed, lifting his eyes. He didn't look directly at Connor, but he glanced around the room.

"Please," Connor begged. "I … I really need to talk to you. There's some things that I need to tell you. I need a chance to explain."

Jude looked down at the desk again.

"Come on," Connor implored.

Jude finally looked at him.

_That changed its mind on me _

"The only thing we need to talk about is this project."

"Jude –"

The thinner boy swallowed, but then cut Connor off. "I mean it. I really have to mean it. You said something awful Connor and I'm not putting up with it."

"I can –"

"Don't say explain … because I don't care. That can't be explained away. There can't be a good reason for that."

_What if there is? _Connor wanted to ask, but he didn't. He knew Jude was right. There was no good reason. He shouldn't have said that word, shouldn't have used it against Jude, Stef and Lena. There was no coming back from that.

"You were supposed to be my best friend," Jude continued. "And you said those things about me, about my moms. And then you just stopped talking to me. You stopped being my friend. And … I … I can't, Connor. We're not friends. _You_ made that decision. You can't change your mind now."

_But what if it wasn't me_? Connor wanted to cry. It had been Adam, controlling his son's life from behind the scenes, hanging physical violence over his head in order to get Connor to do what he wanted.

"Jude," Connor repeated, but unlike last time, he had no idea what he was going to follow it up with.

"Let's just focus on the project," Jude suggested.

"Yeah," Connor agreed, feeling horrible about himself. "The project."

_I should've spoken up_

"Uncle Adam?"

"Yes, Jake?"

"I have something to tell you."

"What is it, Jake?" Adam asked without looking up. He was cutting his steak into pieces before taking a bite out of it.

"Connor and Jude are back together."

Connor's heart stopped in his chest. What on Earth had made Jake think that he and Jude were friends again? Aside from their on-going in-class project, he and Jude hadn't had any contact whatsoever. Jude hated him – and rightfully so. Connor knew that there was no regaining their friendship, that, just like Adam had wanted, there was no way that he and Jude would ever, possibly, "get back together".

"Is that so?" Adam put down his knife and fork, interested in what his nephew had to say. "What makes you think they're back together?"

He looked at Connor out of the side of his eye. Connor was too busy looking at Jake, hoping that this was where his cousin tripped up and revealed that he was lying about the whole thing. He didn't know why Jake would tell Adam something like that, but assumed it was because Jake had done something wrong and was trying to keep Adam's attention off his own folly by making Connor out to have done something worse.

"I heard them, earlier, making plans. They're meeting in the library."

"It's because of a project," Connor exclaimed. "Science. I didn't pick him to be my partner. The teacher picked partners."

"Or it's because we have different library periods, and Connor knows I'd never be able to catch him in the library."

"That's dumb!" Connor squawked, because it was the weakest explanation he could have heard.

Adam folded his fingers together, studying his dinner. Finally, he said, "Jake, finish your food. Connor, upstairs with me."

Feeling cold all over, Connor stood and followed his father to the bedroom that he shared with Jake. He had never heard his father sound like that before – so calm. He didn't know what was about to happen and that made him extremely nervous. Usually, Adam's temper flared and he grabbed the boys wherever they stood. Connor couldn't remember a moment when he'd redirected them to a different location.

"Sit," Adam commanded, and pointed Connor Jake's bed.

Connor sat.

_I should've proudly claimed_

"We need to talk about this Jude kid," Adam said finally. "_Really_ talk about him."

Connor wondered what that meant, but he wasn't about to ask. He was only going to respond to the questions Adam asked. Hopefully he managed to stay out of trouble, or at least minimize the trouble he was going to be in, by following that path.

"Is he gay?"

It seemed to Connor that this was something Adam should have asked the first time had accused Jude of being homosexual.

"No," Connor stated. Jude hadn't officially come out as anything. And, as they were thirteen, Connor didn't see why Jude would have to officially come out as anything just yet. But, as Jude hadn't done so, none of Connor's "tells" for lying appeared.

"Are you sure?" Adam pushed.

"Yes," Connor said, although that time his face gave him away. As Jude wasn't sure of what he was, Connor couldn't be sure.

Adam leaned into his son's face, studying him closely.

"Have you ever kissed him?"

"No!" Connor answered, and that was true.

"Have you thought about it?" Adam continued.

"No," Connor lied, and this one was a direct lie. Even before they had played spin the bottle, Connor had wondered what it would be like to kiss Jude. A lot of kids at school had teased Jude about being homosexual and their teasing had gotten Connor thinking about what it might be like to kiss a boy, specifically Jude. When the opportunity during spin the bottle had arisen, Connor had been anxious to see where that scene was going to take them, even though it ended up not taking them anywhere. And now, after all that had happened, Connor was even more confused because he still thought about what it might be like to kiss Jude, even though they weren't even friends anymore.

Adams eyes narrowed and Connor knew that he had been caught.

_That oh my head's to blame _

Connor had never felt like this before. He had never felt so achy all over; had never felt his father's fists so furious as they slammed against Connor's flesh.

The young boy wasn't capable of conscious thought anymore. He could barely make himself open his eyes and focus on the light fixture on the feeling.

He felt hot all over and his mind felt fuzzy.

Black edged at the corner of his vision.

Connor took a deep stuttering breath, and then Adam's fist caught him in the stomach.

He cried out, trying to suck in air but it wasn't happening.

The black took over his vision, until Connor found himself letting go.

_For all my heart's mistakes _

** Connor looked around, immediately knowing where he was. This was the Adams-Foster house. He was in Jude's and Jesus' shared bedroom. His best friend was sitting on the floor, leaning against his bed, playing on the handheld gaming device that Connor had gifted him.**

** "I beat your high score," Jude stated without looking up.**

** "Mine?" Connor asked, unsure of who else Jude would be talking to.**

** "Duh," Jude laughed. "Who else?"**

** That was the moment Connor realized he was dreaming; because this wasn't a memory, but they were friends.**

** "No way," Connor breathed, playing along. **

** This dream was the embodiment of everything that Connor currently wanted. He felt no aches and pains from bruises; felt no sore tug from the cuts on his arms. He was in Stef and Lena's house, and he Jude were friends again. He would even bet, if the dream got that far along, that his mother would even be the one to pick him up.**

** "Way," Jude argued, pausing the game to look at Connor. "Maybe you're not as good as you thought you were."**

** "Don't test me, grasshopper," Connor narrowed his eyes in a teasing manner, and Jude chuckled.**

** "The student has surpassed the teacher," Jude informed him. "You're just going to have to deal with it."**

** "At least give me a chance to reclaim my title," Connor protested. He edged closer to Jude, so that they were sitting shoulder to shoulder. "It's only fair."**

** "I beat you, that's fair."**

** And then Connor looked down at the screen.**

** "Dude! You're **_**one point**_** above me."**

** "Still counts," Jude replied smugly.**

** "One point!"**

** "Still above your score."**

** Connor laughed. "You're a loser," he teased, nudging his shoulder against Jude's.**

** "You're a loser," Jude argued, nudging Connor more forcefully. "I have the higher score."**

** Moving quickly, Connor plucked the game from Jude's hands and bounced to his feet, holding the device high above his head.**

** "Yeah, but I'm taller."**

** "Someday," Jude informed Connor, "I'll grow."**

** He stretched onto his tip-toes, using Connor's shoulder for leverage and tried to stretch for the game. Connor leaned back, intentionally keeping it out of Jude's reach.**

** "Yeah, but today is not that day."**

** And they laughed.**

_But oh, I'm staring at the mess I made _

Connor was smiling at the memory of his dream, the one he'd had when his father had accidentally knocked him unconscious. He couldn't even be bitter about the fact that his own father had caused him to black out because it had given Connor the little bit of comfort he had needed. That dream had been the highlight of Connor's week, and the fact that it was true made Connor feel utterly depressed.

He was sitting on the floor of the bathroom again, one of his stolen razor blades in his hand. He didn't even care about Adam's potential reaction to the fact that he was continuing to cut. He just knew that he had to do something for himself, and if that something was cutting open his own flesh, he was going to do it. There was something so invigorating, so freeing, about the fact that he could now control something. He had control over the amount of times he hurt himself; he had control over how deep. He now had control over the pain he felt. Connor knew that, no matter what he did, he was going to feel pain. But now, he could direct it. The pain from the cuts was encompassing, blocking out the pain from Adam and the pain from Jude.

With a razor blade, Connor could ignore everything else that was going on his knife, because the pain demanded his full attention.

He drew the blade horizontally across his wrist, running over raw cuts. He breathed a sigh of relief. While he knew that pain shouldn't bring relief, he couldn't deny that it did. He couldn't deny that he felt better when he cut himself.

And so he did it again …

… and again …

… and again …

Until everything in his life had faded into the background where Connor could ignore it.

_I'm staring at the mess I made_

"Hi."

Jude looked at Connor. He immediately glanced away again. "Connor," he breathed.

"What?" Connor asked, but he knew what Jude was about to say.

"We … we passed in the project. And we agreed … just the project."

"I know," Connor replied, and said no more.

He sat at his desk, trying not to think about the fact that he was sitting so close to Jude but they were so far apart. He could hear Jude breathing; he could practically hear Jude thinking. But as for what Jude was thinking, Connor couldn't guess.

Was he thinking about the same thing Connor was? Was he thinking about the time when they were friends? Was he wishing they were able to be friends again?

Because that's what Connor was thinking about.

Connor was also thinking about his failures. He had failed Jude. He had failed himself. He couldn't do anything without failing. He couldn't even be a decent human being; stick by his friends and his moral principles.

And he was miserable. He was oh, so, miserable. He didn't know how Jake had done it, growing up in that house, but Connor couldn't take it anymore. Connor couldn't wait for his mother to come back, because she had said, in her last phone call, that she didn't know if she would make it back for Christmas after all.

He felt trapped. He felt more and more trapped about his life with every day that passed. His life went downhill with every moment that passed, and he felt sickened by it more and more. He was a bird trapped in a cage, unable to free himself.

Connor just wanted to be free. And he knew, suddenly, that he had to do.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, low enough that there was only a small chance that Jude would hear him, but the words were for Jude.

"Did you say something?" Jude whispered in return.

Connor shook his head. No, he hadn't.

_I 'm staring at the mess I made_

Connor trailed behind Jake as they headed home after school. His cousin unlocked the door and let himself in first, the door screen door almost smacking Connor in the face. Connor brushed it off, unconcerned with the door. He was no longer concerned with anything, and it felt amazing.

"You seem … happy," Jake observed as they deposited their coats and bags into the front closet.

"No, not really," Connor denied, not wanting to make Jake suspicious.

"Been kissing your _boyfriend_?" Jake taunted. "Been makin' out in the _library?_"

"Leave it alone," Connor snapped. "Jude and I were never like that. We were always just friends."

"Whatever you say, Gay-rella," Jake snorted. And then laughed to himself. "Gay-rella. I'll have to remember that one. Uncle Adam is going to love it."

"Great," Connor deadpanned. "I'm going to take a nap."

"Wait!" Jake requested. "Let me thinking about this one. Sleeping Gay just doesn't have a good ring to it … Oh, I know, Sleeping Homo!"

Connor rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything else to his cousin. Instead, he climbed the stairs to their shared bedroom. He dropped onto his bed heavily and stared at the opposite wall. The ceilings on the upper floor all had beams and he eyed them in a new fashion.

Connor was going to kill himself. And he was going to do it tonight.

He just wasn't entirely sure how yet.

His father owned no guns; he took no medication. Connor didn't think that he could make himself cut his arms deep enough to bleed to death. But hanging … Hanging seemed like the only viable option. He felt something settle within him at the morbid thought. In a few moments, it would all be over. There would be no more pain; no more beatings; no more heartache.

He didn't feel the least bit hesitant as Connor dug around their room. He found the ancient skipping rope that he'd noticed resting there ages ago. When he first noticed it, he hadn't really thought anything of it, only to think it was odd for Jake to keep a skipping rope lying around. Now, Connor was just glad it was around. He dragged the skipping rope back to his bed and draped it across his lap, expertly tying knots in it.

It was certainly twisted, Connor reflected, that it had been Adam who had taught him to tie knots.

_As you turn, you take your heart and walk away _

Connor had the skipping rope around his neck, the other end round the beam. His feet were planted on the desk chair he and Jake shared, ready to be rolled away at any moment. He took a shaky breath, and closed his eyes to think, one more time, if he should leave a note. But, once again, he decided against it. Once they saw his body, they would know why. Once they saw his bruises and his cuts, they would know why.

"I'm sorry," Connor repeated his words to Jude early in the afternoon. "I'm so sorry."

But he had to free himself.

Connor took a deep breath – his last, real breath – and he kicked the chair away.

_And it's you, and it's you_

"Hey, love," Stef cooed as Lena picked up the phone.

"Hey," Lena replied, her warm voice full of love. "Are you on your way home? Dinner's almost ready and everyone is here but you."

"Everyone?" Stef repeated. "You mean Jesus took a break from the girlfriend?"

Lena laughed. "That's exactly what I mean. So, are you on your way home?"

"Not quite," Stef revealed.

"Oh no."

"I got a call."

"Of course."

"It'll be quick," Stef assured her.

"What is it?" Lena inquired.

"It's a domestic violence," Stef said in a hushed voice. "There are two minors at the hospital. The paramedics called us. I just need to go, take statements, and wait for the social worker."

"That sounds 'quick'," Lena commented, although her heart went out to the two minors at the hospital. She knew that there were parents out there who raised hands to their children; who turned innocent lives into a living hell. "You be careful, okay? It's turning into a full-fledged storm out there. I hear there are accidents everywhere."

"Oh, you know me. I'm the very definition of caution and safety."

"_Stef_," Lena exclaimed in a warning tone.

"I'll drive under the speed limit, just for you," Stef said to placate her wife. "Now, I have to go. Because the sooner I get there, the sooner I get home."

"Okay. I love you."

"I love you too," Stef answered.

She hung up her cell phone, turning her car on. She drove, just as she had promised, very slowly over to the hospital. She met the paramedics – Ashley and Danny – in front of the hospital room. She was familiar with the pair. A second officer, Nucci, was present as well.

"So, what's the case?" She inquired. "I didn't get many details when I was called in."

"We got a call approximately forty minutes ago. A fifteen year old kid found his younger cousin hanging in their bedroom and called 911. We arrived. The child was not conscious when we arrived, but was breathing normally. On the drive back, we noted several injuries, both self-inflicted and from apparent physical abuse. The child woke up on the drive here. It seems his cousin found him in time and will suffer no last damage, although you'll need a doc to confirm that," Ashley reported.

"Thanks guys," Stef told them. She dismissed them as she noticed a social worker making her way down the hall.

"Call me Teri," the social worker said as she shook hands with both Nucci and Stef.

"All right, Teri," Stef agreed. And then she relayed the information that Ashley and Danny had given her.

"Now, I have their identities," Nucci broke in. "The elder cousin is a boy by the name of Jake Austin."

"We've contacted his father's cousin. She lives in the area," Teri broke in. "She said that, if we were to drop Jake off to her, she would take him." And then she explained further, "With the storm right now, the hospital is discharging everyone they can to free up hospital beds."

Stef nodded; it was standard practice in a hospital when there was a storm occurring.

"And what about the other child?" Stef pressed. "The one who tried to hang themselves?"

"Connor Stevens," Nucci said.

Stef froze. Connor? Jude's Connor?

"Where's his doctor?" She demanded.

"Right here." An elderly man emerged from the room they were all gathered in front of. "I'm Dr. Saum."

"How's Connor?" Stef begged of him immediately. "Is he going to be okay?"

"Absolutely," Dr. Saum assured her without hesitation. "He must have been taken down extraordinarily quickly. We still have a few tests left to run, but in my opinion, he's going to be absolutely fine."

Stef put a hand over her heart, feeling tears of relief. She loved Connor and she didn't know what she would have done if he had passed away. And then she thought of the circumstances. He had tried to kill himself. Ashley and Danny had spoken of self-inflicted wounds and physical abuse. _That poor boy,_ she thought, and immediately wanted to see him. But there was protocol to follow, and Teri was talking again.

"We couldn't find any relatives in the immediate area. His mother and father are his only living relatives. And, for the time being, his mother in his England – and, when we spoke to her, she said she wouldn't be able to make it back for at least three days, although she's hoping for sooner - and his father is the one who is assumed to have committed the abusive acts toward these two children, as they were both in his car."

"Do we have his father?" She asked Nucci.

"Polo and Lambert went to look for him," Nucci explained. "Now, which one do you want to interview?"

"Ah, Connor Stevens," she picked.

Nucci passed her the camera that would be used to document Connor's injuries.

"Officer Nucci, another worker – Mrs. Mitchell – will be meeting you at Mr. Austin's room. Officer Adams-Foster, I will be accompanying you as you interview Mr. Stevens."

"And I," Dr. Saum announced, "Will be around if needed, and all of my nurses are at your disposal."

"Actually, Dr. Saum," Stef beckoned the age man to her as Nucci wandered off to find Jake, "I have a question."

"Yes?"

"Well, I know you're releasing patients due to the storm. Will Mr. Stevens be one of them?"

"If all of his tests come back clear, then yes. We will be discharging him, so long as we are able to set-up several follow-up appointments for both mental and physical health."

"Thank you," Stef said to the doctor, and then she turned to Teri. "You said that there's no one available to take Connor."

"Correct. We're searching for a group home."

"I'll take him," Stef offered. "My wife and I are registered foster parents. We know him. He knows us. He'll be safe and comfortable in my home."

"I'll make a call while you do your thing," Teri agreed, and motioned to Stef's camera.

Stef nodded, and knew that it was time to step into the room. The boy in the hospital bed looked toward the door, his eyes widening as he realized that it was Stef.

"Hi," she breathed. "How are you?"

"Okay," Connor croaked, his voice strangely husky.

"I'm here to talk to you about the bruises," Stef told him softly, "And I'm going to need to take pictures."

Connor nodded, not saying much. He sat up and eased his legs off the side of the bed, though he didn't make a move to stand. Stef positioned herself directly in front of him. She noticed the light bruising beginning to emerge on Connor's neck, and she had to force herself to stay composed. With shaking hands, the young teenager inched the zipper of his hoodie down. He was shirtless underneath, likely cut away by the paramedics, and Stef could not control her gasp. He was virtually a different colour on his torso. His father had been smart, keeping the bruises away from visible places. But as Connor shrugged the hoodie completely off, she saw the angry red cuts that she knew he had caused himself.

"Oh, Connor," she fretted, "Who did this to you?"

"Dad."

That was the moment Stef's heart broke.

_And it's you, and it's you_

Stef took careful photos of Connor. He wanted to make sure that she documented everything that Adam Stevens had done to his son. She took close-up pictures of every dark bruise, every open wound. With every snap of her camera, she felt her heart shatter a little more. Parents weren't supposed to do this to their children; this was the very thing that parents were supposed to protect their children from.

And while Stef took photos, Connor talked away.

He spoke of his mother, having to move so far away for work, while Connor moved in with his father so that he wouldn't have to leave his school or his friends. Besides, his mother had said her job was only supposed to be temporary. Connor talked about the first time his father had hit him. He explained how his father's homophobic attitude had only seemed to grow. He even confessed what he had said to Jude, what he had said about Stef and Lena. He cried through that admission, exclaiming that he hadn't meant it, and that he'd been so scared of his father that he hadn't known what to do.

"Hey," Stef soothed, "It's okay, honey. No one blames you. We understand. We're not mad."

"Jude blames me," Connor sobbed. "I hate that I hurt him. I never wanted to hurt Jude I … I just didn't know what else to do."

Agitated, he scratched his nails against his wounded wrist, causing his tender cuts to bleed further. Stef looped her fingers gently around Connor's wrist, careful not to make any movements that would be considered threatening. She guided his hand away from his other arm so that he could no longer hurt himself.

"I miss him and I'm sorry and … I'm just so sorry."

Stef curled Connor into her arms, gently rocking them back and forth. She petted the back of his head, trying to calm him down. She murmured sweet nonsense into his ears, as the boy broke down in her arms, finally able to free himself of the pain that he had been carrying for so long.

_And it's falling down, as you walk away _

"Stef?" Lena exclaimed into the phone. "I've been waiting for you to call. Are you okay? Did something happen?"

"I…" Stef began, feeling emotionally drained. "I'm still at the hospital."

"Because of the case?" Lena clarified, worried about her wife.

"Yeah. Um, it was just … One of the boys, he tried to kill himself."

"Oh no!" Lena gasped. "Is he okay?"

"It was Connor," Stef explained, a broken sob escaping her lips as she thought of the boy, just past the door she was standing in front of. It had been painful, witnessing a boy she cared about so much looking so broken. She couldn't help but think about what if it had been one of her kids, knowing that every one of her babies had been in a position where they could have been hurt like that. "Lena, it's terrible. He's just covered in bruises and he has cuts on his arms and … and …" Stef cut herself.

"Jude's Connor?" Lena yipped. "He was the one who …"

"He tried to hang himself," Stef answered Lena's unasked question.

"No … no. Is he going to be okay?"

"The doctors are clearing him now. His father's in custody. His mom is out of town for the next few days at least, and the weather is making the hospital kick people out ..." Stef was aware she was uncharacteristically rambling, but she couldn't make herself stop. The last time she remembered being so shaken up was when she had seen Brandon in a hospital bed. "I'm bringing him home with me."

"Absolutely. I'll put Jesus into Brandon's room for the night. He can bunk with Jude."

"You'll have to tell Jude," Stef realized, "Before we get home."

"I will," Lena agreed solemnly. "Just, get home, okay?"

"Okay, babe. Love you."

"Love you too."

_And it's on me now, as you go _

Lena entered the kitchen, conveniently finding her three sons gathered around the island, carefully slicing up piece so they'd all have an equal share.

"Guys," she clapped her hands, gathering their attention, although only Jude looked away from the pie.

"Yeah, Mom?" Jesus asked. "Brandon, the knife is too far left."

"It is not!" Brandon insisted.

"What's up?" Jude inquired.

"We," Lena said gently, "Are having an unexpected guest for the next few nights. Jesus, you'll be temporarily moving into Brandon's room."

"If you snore," Jesus threatened Brandon, "I'll smother you."

"If you threaten me again, I'm eating your share of the pie," Brandon snapped.

"Wait, so who am I sharing with?"

"Come here," Lena beckoned, tucking her youngest under her arm. "We need to talk."

She brought him upstairs to his and Jesus' room. She shut the door behind her, and then joined her son on the bed.

"Mom," Jude said honestly, "You're kind of scaring me."

"Honey, we need to talk about Connor."

"What about him?"

"The two of you haven't been spending time together recently."

"I … We …"

"Jude," Lena said, knowing that if she didn't say it now, she wouldn't end up saying it all. "Connor tried to kill himself this afternoon."

Jude became utterly still, his eyes becoming glassy and wet.

"He's okay," Lena continued, taking Jude's hand in her own. "But I guess his home life hasn't been ideal. His father didn't treat Connor and his cousin very well. Connor resorted to hurting himself, before he attempted to take his life. I'm telling you this, because Mom is bringing Connor home with her. And, I know that something must have happened between the two of you, but he needs you right now."

Jude nodded.

"How do you feel?" Lena asked.

"Really sorry," Jude revealed. "Really, really sorry … How could I just abandon him like that? He needed me."

"Oh, baby," Lena pulled Jude into her arms. "Just be there with him now. He's probably sorry for things too."

Jude nodded, knowing that they both had a lot to make up for, but that it was all in the past now. Right now, they just needed to be together, and they would be, soon.

_But oh, I'm staring at the mess I made _

Connor crept in the front door of the Adams-Foster home, right behind Stef. He moved, as he always seemed to these days, slowly, like he was an aged man. He followed her into the kitchen, wondering where all of the children seemed to be. There wasn't a whisper or a peep. Not from Brandon, Callie, Jesus, or Mariana (and he couldn't imagine not hearing something from the always-vibrant Mariana if she was in the house). And there was absolutely no trace of the person Connor was looking for.

He couldn't find Jude.

Lena was in the kitchen, waiting for them. Without a word, she handed Connor a warm mug of hot chocolate, and he felt shaky all over at the simple act of kindness.

"Lena, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Connor."

"You don't know what I'm sorry for," he protested. If she knew, she surely wouldn't offer forgiveness so quickly.

"Stef told me. And it's okay. I understand why," Lena consoled him. "And you know that it's wrong to say it. And I know you wouldn't, under normal circumstances."

"Thank you," he croaked. "For everything."

"Anything for you." Stef kissed him on the forehead, just as a mother would. "You let us know if you need us for anything. We didn't tell anyone, though. Except for Jude."

Jude knew.

"Where is he?" Connor asked.

"In his room," Lena told him. "Take him some cocoa, please."

Connor picked up the second cup and traced the familiar path upstairs to Jude's room. He knocked on the door with his foot, unable to get the doorknob himself. The door creaked open – it wasn't latched as he'd originally thought. He stepped inside the room, locating Jude standing on the opposite side of the room from the door. He put down the mugs of hot chocolate and waited for Jude to make the first move.

Jude shifted, and Connor waited.

_I'm staring at the mess I made_

Before Connor could process anything, Jude had crossed the room, wrapping his arms around Connor's middle. Connor hugged him back, realizing just how afraid he was that Jude was still going to be angry, after everything. He didn't know how much Jude knew, but he'd been worried that it wouldn't be enough to keep Jude from hating him. He knew he would have more to explain, but right now, he just hugged his best friend, secure in the knowledge that he had a best friend again.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," Jude blurted.

"And I'm sorry I cut you out. I should have just be honest with you from the start, about everything."

Jude steped away from Connor.

"Be honest with me now," Jude pleaded, asking the same question he had months ago, as their friendship was ending. "Why?"

_I'm staring at the mess I made_

"I was scared," Connor answered, sitting on the bed and sipping at his hot chocolate. "Of my dad and of Jake. I didn't want to disrupt anyone's life. And I was scared of what would happen to me, if I told about my dad."

Jude shifted his legs out from underneath of him, feeling heartbroken after listening to Connor's story.

"I should have said something when he first started," Connor reflected, "before it got this far."

"Mom … Mom said you hurt yourself," Jude revealed, whispering.

"I … I thought I should be punishing myself. And I thought that I deserved it. And I wanted to feel something beyond the pain that Dad caused, and I felt like I needed to control something. And I could control the way I hurt myself … it was all messed up."

"It's okay," Jude assured him. "It's really okay."

"I was such a jerk to you." Connor continued. "I'm so sorry."

_As you turn, you take your heart and walk away _

"I'm sorry too." Jude replied. "I should have been there. I'm your best friend. I should have realized that something was wrong, and that you wouldn't have said that."

"It's okay. I mean, I thought it was better if you believed me, because I thought it would make Dad leave me alone, but he still thought … thought the worst."

"It's my fault you got hurt," Jude realized, "Because your dad thought I was –"

"No, that's not true," Connor interrupted. "He would have found something else, _did_ find other things. It was all my fault."

"That's not true either," Jude whispered, "It wasn't your fault. None of it was. I'm just sorry I couldn't have been there for you."

His gaze fell onto Connor's neck, and Connor felt self-conscious.

"I'm here now," Jude carried on. "Always, okay?"

"Okay," Connor agreed, feeling overwhelmed by the day. "I'm really glad we're friends."

"Me too."

_And it's falling down, as you walk away _

The boys were getting ready for bed. Connor wasn't going to collect things from his father's house until the next day, so he was borrowing an old pair of pyjama pants and a t-shirt from Jesus. He had just pulled on the plaid pants when he felt Jude's eyes on his back.

"Does the front look as bad?" Jude whispered, and Connor knew that he was talking about the plethora of bruises that covered his skin.

Instead of answering, Connor turned around. He watched Jude look at his skin, and he shivered under the look. After so long of keeping the violence a secret, after so long of hiding away his flesh for fear that someone would see the injuries, he felt so exposed. First, Stef had taken pictures of him, and then he had shown Jude. But where Stef's pictures had seemed like an intrusion, Jude's eyes did not.

Jude took a step forward. Before Connor could question what he was doing, he felt his friend's hand touch his arm. He knew what Jude was trying to do, and he flipped his arm so that he exposed the cuts that Jude must have specifically been looking for. Jude's thumbs came dangerously close to touch the edge of the scars, but he didn't.

"Come on," Jude finally broke the silence. "Let's go to bed."

Despite the fact that Jesus' bed was free, Jude and Connor climbed into the same space. After so long, they weren't willing to be separated now.

_And it's on me now, as you go_

Connor was sleeping, lying utterly still next to Jude. Every so often, he would release a wheezing snore.

Jude, however was awake. Despite how much he and Connor had talked all evening, Jude didn't know how to process any of it. He didn't know how to be there for Connor the way that he should be. All he knew was that he wasn't stepping away from his friend again; not for anything. Connor was the best friend that Jude had ever had, and he was ashamed that he had abandoned him the way he had.

And he also couldn't shake the feeling that he was to cause for a chunk, at least of Connor's fate. If he and Connor had never been friends, Adam Stevens never would have accused Connor of being gay. If Jude himself had never painted his nails, had never come off as flamboyant and girly, then Connor might never have been hurt. If Jude had been different, Connor might have been spared.

Seeking out his sleeping friend's hand, Jude held it.

"I'm sorry," he said aloud, meaning it with every fibre of his being. He had everything to be sorry for.

_But oh, I'm staring at the mess I made _

"_Jude_," Connor breathed, and the other boy jumped.

Jude had been drifting off to sleep, finally ready to rest. He hadn't been aware that Connor was awake, and he wondered if Connor had heard his apology.

"Yeah?" Jude replied. "Did you need something?"

There was no reply. Thinking the incident strange, Jude settled back against his pillow.

_"Sorry_," came Connor's voice again.

"What?" Jude asked, sitting up a little so that he could see his friend's face.

Connor's eyes were closed. He wheezed. And Jude realized that Connor was talking in his sleep. He'd known a kid before who would reply if you talked to him while sleeping, and he wondered if Connor would do the same.

"Connor," Jude prompted softly, not wanting to wake Connor.

Connor wheezed.

"Connor?" Jude tried again, but there was no response.

Jude shrugged and settled back down, adjusting the blanket around his shoulders.

"_Jude. Sorry," _Connor said his words from earlier. _"Best friend._"

Feeling happy and content that his best friend was next to him, Jude closed his eyes and cuddled his pillow, drifting off to sleep.

_I'm staring at the mess I made _

Morning came late for Jude and Connor, who both had permission to stay home from school that day. They'd slept through everyone else getting up and ready for school and work, and when they finally did rise, it was because of grumbling stomachs.

"Lena bought cinnamon bagels," Jude informed Connor as they headed down the stairs.

"Yum," Connor replied, his voice sounding more guttural and raspy than it had the day before.

They prepared their bagels – Jude with cream cheese and Connor with peanut butter – and went to eat their breakfast in front of the T.V. They sat next to each other on the couch, knees touching.

It was an easy silence that they at in, watching cartoons and snacking on their bagels. Even through all that had happened, they had not forgotten how to be best friends. After last night, they both felt absolved of all the sins they may have committed against one another. They weren't starting with a clean slate, but they were on a happier note.

_I'm staring at the mess I made _

It was an hour later when Connor turned to face Jude.

"There's one more thing that I really need to talk to you about."

"Anything," Jude swore, muting the T.V. He'd promised to be there for Connor no matter what, now, and he was all ears.

"I was thinking about this, even before I moved in with my dad," Connor started slowly, not sure how to phrase what was on his mind. "It's about, well, you."

"What about me?"

Connor didn't have any words. He didn't know how to express what he was thinking to Jude. So, he used actions instead. Terrified and afraid that he was about to lose Jude, Connor leaned forward across the couch to kiss Jude on the lips. To his shock, Jude kissed him back.

And Connor nearly felt like crying because, after so long of feeling hurt and alone, he finally had a safe place; a place to be loved.

And, like he had always suspected, Jude was his safe place.

_As you turn, you take your heart and walk away_

**Wrote this in a day. Unedited. Any feedback is appreciated!**

**The song is _The Mess I Made_ by _Parachute._**

**(Also, I know nothing about police procedures/medical things and I made it up as I went along, so don't take my word for anything)**

**~TLL~**


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